


The Vestal's Unsalacious Diary

by Wildroses2009



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Diary/Journal, Gen, Humor, Other, Other characters referenced but not tagged as unimportant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 09:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20374738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wildroses2009/pseuds/Wildroses2009
Summary: Extracts from a Vestal's Diary, which she uses to keep track of who isn't speaking to her this week and why. Is it her fault the Hamlet is full of idiots? Only morons would come to the Darkest Dungeon anyway.





	The Vestal's Unsalacious Diary

**Author's Note:**

> I use the default names instead of character names. I don't think you need to know them for the sake of the story, but here is the complete list of them all in case it bothers you: 
> 
> Abomination: Bigby  
Antiquarian: Josephine  
Arbalist: Missandei  
Bounty Hunter: Tardif  
Crusader: Reynauld  
Flagellant: Damian  
Graverobber: Audrey  
Hellion: Boudica  
Highwayman: Dismas  
Houndmaster: William  
Jester: Sarmenti  
Leper: Baldwin  
Man at Arms: Barristan  
Muskateer: Margaret  
Occultist: Alhazred  
Plague Doctor: Paracelsus  
Shieldbreaker: Amani  
Vestal: Junia. But I don't think the writer of this diary's name is Junia, somehow.

Dear Diary

I can’t believe Boudica. She put a torch on an altar that specifically said putting a torch on an altar was the gateway to ruin because she was: “curious” and “didn’t think it could really be that bad.” Well it was. How we killed that shambling monster without anyone dying I don’t know but we were in no shape to continue the expedition after. To add to the injustice, she was praised by our Patron because the monster dropped some disgusting old handkerchief which belonged to his Ancestor. Considering what that revolting man did it doesn’t seem like a recommendation to me but apparently I just don’t have enough breeding to understand the true value of family heirlooms. I was about to tell our Patron how utterly moronic that was but Tardif and Dismas had a dreadful outbreak of clumsiness. Somehow against all the odds they managed to both stomp on my feet at the same time. When I was done telling the pair of them what blundering dolts they were our Patron announced he was going to pay for some relaxation. Boudica, Dismas and Tardif he paid for a week in the brothel and me he was sending to the gambling hall because Vestal’s couldn’t do anything in the brothel. Naturally I pointed out this was technically not true as there are plenty of ways you can maintain your purity while engaging in pleasures of the flesh. As it was clear from their surprised expressions and inability to say anything they had no idea what I was talking about I ended up explaining to them about various ways tongues and hands can be used as well as alternative openings. I’m glad I got to right before they visited the brothel, they can put that knowledge to good use now. From the way they all listened for the whole ten minutes in stunned silence it was quite obvious they’d never considered such alternatives. I wonder what sort of sheltered lives they’d been living before they arrived in the Hamlet?

Dear Diary

I’m having a great time in the gambling hall. All these hardened gamblers look at this pious little convent girl and think I must be an easy mark. Little did they know in the dormitories of St Martha’s our mathematics lessons included the study of probability and we trained our memories studying verses. Barristan tried to get me to go on an expedition a few days ago but I was on a hot streak against a particularly obnoxious man who wouldn’t stop calling me sweetie pie. Barristan left quickly after I told him he’d be chaste by physical limitations and not choice if he kept pestering me. Barristan isn’t speaking to me now, but it was worth it. Mr Obnoxious gave me some lovely new vocabulary after I emptied his pockets. I’ll use them on Boudica next time her curiosity summons a shambling horror. 

Dear Diary

This week I was part of an expedition into the Cove to find some lost relics our Patron’s ancestor had hired some obviously incompetent couriers to deliver. One of the fishmen managed to get past Alhazred’s guard and slice him badly across his upper thigh. I tried to treat him but he kept pushing me away. When I demanded to know why he said he was trying to protect my purity. Naturally I made haste to assure him that I had never once thought of him lustfully and would find it easy to see him without his trousers and feel no temptation whatsoever. I didn’t hear what he said in response because Audrey and Amani were laughing too loudly, which was a pity because it was the last thing Alhazred said to me for the rest of the expedition. We’ve been back three days now and he still isn’t speaking to me. 

Dear Diary

Alhazred started speaking to me again this week, but I almost wish he hadn’t considering the circumstances and result. I ended up sleeping in Reynauld’s bed. Those of us who weren’t on an expedition went to the tavern a few evenings ago. The ale was a bit more potent than I was expecting and I ended up stumbling into Reynauld’s bed instead of mine. I don’t remember what happened, but Reynauld claims that I threatened to throw up on him if I was moved and he didn’t think it was an empty threat. So he slept on the floor. 

Considering my powers stem from my purity and Reynauld has a wife outside the Hamlet I didn’t think anyone would get the wrong idea when I walked out of his bedroom dishevelled in the morning but Sarmenti did. Very vocally. I got so annoyed after the eighth quip I ended up chasing him around the room raining judgement on him for several minutes to prove I was still pure. That’s why Alhazred is speaking to me now. He’s hated Sarmenti over some campfire mockery from a past expedition. I’m amazed Sarmenti is still speaking to me, but because everyone was watching him dodge my strikes while laughing their heads off he considered it a grand impromptu comic performance. Jesters… I suppose it helps that his dodge is high and my accuracy is bad. 

Dear Diary

Reynauld isn’t speaking to me. Despite my public display of judgement on Sarmenti, enough people think that Reynauld and I did more than snore the night I slept in his room that I got fed up with all the questions about his anatomy. I lost my patience when Audrey was pestering me and told her Reynauld’s looked like one of Alhazred’s tentacles from the deep except it was bright pink with green polka dots. It was so patently ridiculous I thought Reynauld wouldn’t be offended and everybody would realise I was being sarcastic. But Paracelsus doesn’t understand sarcasm and tried to examine Reynauld in case he had a new strain of plague. It turns out men don’t like it when you say they have a bright pink tentacle with green polka dots in their trousers. I’m going on an expedition next week. I’ll ask to be paid in gems and give them to Reynauld in apology. He’ll forgive me. Reynauld loves gems. It’s hilarious how he thinks the contents of that locked box under his bed is a secret. He honestly seems to think nobody sees him pocketing items on expeditions when we’re all right there behind him. 

Dear Diary

Tardif has been acting strangely since his expedition to the courtyard. It came to a head today. I was reading my Versebook in the mess hall when I gave myself a papercut. While I was looking for something to bind it so I wouldn’t get blood on the pages with he suddenly ran at me screaming: “I will taste you and nothing will stop me!” I stopped him by kicking his groin then hitting him over the head with my Versebook while he was doubled over. Paracelsus said it gave him concussion. Now Tardif isn’t speaking to me. Or at least I think he isn’t. It’s hard to tell the difference. Bounty hunting attracts silent types. 

Dear Diary

Josephine came back from the sanitarium today. She said she caught syphilis in the ruins after reading a book. I told her that isn’t how you catch syphilis and she really needed to talk to Audrey, Boudica, Sarmenti, Dismas, our Patron and her three favourite whores because they deserved to know they could be ill now. When Josephine kept insisting she had caught it from a book I said I’d talk to them if she wasn’t going to do the responsible thing. Now Josephine isn’t speaking to me but I’m not sure if it was because she was angry I didn’t believe she’d caught syphilis from a book or if she thinks the only reason I know all the people she’s slept with in the last month is because I was spying on her. If the latter, maybe Josephine is truly dumb enough to believe she caught syphilis from a book. Our rooms in the dormitory are next door to each other and she isn’t exactly quiet. She isn’t subtle either. Nobody believes all those guests in her bedroom are coming in to “study antiques” with her all night long. 

Dear Diary

Alhazred isn’t speaking to me again, and I’m not speaking to Sarmenti. Sarmenti knows about the incident a few weeks ago when he wouldn’t let me treat Alhazred’s thigh injury. Alhazred had apparently sworn Audrey and Amani to secrecy so he assumed I must have told him. As I had told only this diary, it was obvious Sarmenti had been reading it. When I demanded to know why, do you know what that idiot said? He said he thought it would be salacious. Salacious! Why on earth would he think that?! I was so angry I chased him around the Hamlet raining judgement on him until the coward locked himself in the meditation hall and refused to come out until I was gone. I think that’s why I’m going on an expedition tomorrow. The Abbott wants his meditation hall back.


End file.
